


Enclosed

by SailorChibi



Series: family verse [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Play, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crying, Cuddling, Daddy!Sam, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Little kid Scott, More comfort than hurt, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Sam Wilson, Scott Needs A Hug, Solitary Confinement, alternate universe - littles are known, breakdowns, caregiver sam, little!Scott, mentions of baby!tony, mentions of little!clint, non sexual age play, post-captain america (civil war), scott lang feels, with mild spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 02:59:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7341853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorChibi/pseuds/SailorChibi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott successfully hid his Little status all his life; the Raft was what finally broke him apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enclosed

**Author's Note:**

> Commission; anon wanted to know how Sam came to be Scott's daddy.

Jail wasn't that bad, even for someone like Scott. Some of the prisoners figured his secret - it was hard to hide, in a place like that, where everyone was jammed in close together and you didn't get five minutes of privacy - but most of them were decent, and willing to make those who weren't back off. Miraculously, even though Scott cried himself to sleep every day for that first year, the guards never once caught on. And after three years, he emerged a free man and, more importantly, with records that still proclaimed him a baseline.

The Raft was a hundred times worse than jail. They'd only been there for about three days and Scott could already tell that much. He sat in a corner of his cell and stared at the tinted glass, which might as well have been a black hole for all that he could see. For all he knew, he was completely alone. The only sign of life beyond the glass was the food that got shoved in the bottom of the glass three times a day. 

Even in jail, there had been companionship. Other people. A cellmate. Books. Fresh air. He closed his eyes. He would've traded his left arm for the opportunity to walk around that stupid little courtyard. Every third Sunday, people could come visit. Maggie never came, which meant he never saw Cassie, but his parents always did. He didn't think they'd be visiting him here.

"You can do this," he muttered to himself, shifting uncomfortably. "It's not that big a deal, Scott." Except it was. How long was he going to be in here? Three years? Ten years? The rest of his life? He couldn't take it. He would lose his mind before that happened. He didn't regret accepting the call to help. He'd thought that he was prepared to handle any consequences. But this - he couldn't do it. He needed out.

His legs ached when he stood up, and he hobbled over to the glass. It was cool to the touch; his fingertips left behind spots and smears. It was probably petty to feel smug over that, thinking about the guard that would have to come in and clean the glass after he was gone, but Scott didn't care. He pressed both hands to the glass, feeling for any imperfections or give. There was nothing. Smooth and hard, like a diamond, and his breathy laugh hitched on a sob.

He pressed his forehead to the glass next, hoping that the coolness against his flushed face would help bring him back from the edge. It didn't work. If anything, the pressure in his chest swelled and his next exhale was another sob. Tears blurred the sight of the cell around him. 

"Please let me out," he said to the glass, phrasing it as nicely as he could, because his parents had taught him to be polite.

As expected, there was no answer. Maybe there would never be an answer. He'd just die here, and Cassie would always be left to wonder what had happened to him. He sobbed a third time, choking on it, and slid slowly to his knees. He'd dug his claws into his composure and held onto it for as long as he could, but it was breaking apart and all he could do was cry.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been there for, in a crumbled heap at the bottom of the glass, before a flicker ran across the surface. Slowly, the tint drained away and left the glass clear as water. Suddenly Scott could see out into the Raft; see the guards patrolling the walkways, the other cells, the Avengers. Clint was across from him, Wanda right beside him, with another empty cell was beside her.

"Prisoner 00-4-A4, you are instructed to calm yourself or we will give you a sedative."

It was the first voice Scott had heard in three days, piped in through a speaker he didn't even know existed, and he flinched. He tried to stop the tears, but it was impossible. 

"I want my mommy," he cried. 

"Prisoner 00-4-A4, you are instructed -"

"Leave him alone for fuck's sake! Can't you see he's a Little?"

Scott flinched. The robotic voice stopped. 

"Let me out," Sam Wilson commanded. "I'm a caregiver. I can comfort him."

"Absolutely not." There was a guard standing outside of Scott's cell now. Scott shrank back at the sight of the guard's gun and whimpered.

"So you're just going to leave him there to cry? I bet that the media would love that. Bet Ross's shiny new reputation wouldn't tarnish at all, huh?" Sam said. He sounded pissed.

The guard actually hesitated at that. He put a hand to his earpiece and his lips moved, though Scott couldn't hear anything over the sound of his own crying. After a couple of minutes, he turned to Scott. "Are you a Little? Your records don't reflect that."

Scott hesitated. His parents had paid that doctor a lot of money to have his records say that he was baseline instead of Little - more money than an assistant manager at Walgreens and a down-on-his-luck plumber could really afford. And he'd spent most of his life being very careful about who knew the truth. He hadn't even admitted it to Maggie until two months after Cassie was born and she wanted to have sex for the first time; it had taken him weeks to talk her out of getting the birth certificate overturned.

If he said yes, then there was no doubt in his mind that the guard would have his records changed to reflect his status as a Little. There were enough doors already closed to him because of his criminal record that this would be the nail on the coffin. It would be pretty much impossible for him to support himself legally. Not to mention, he had no idea what Hope or, worse, Hank would say. There was a distinct possibility Hank would take the suit away.

But... if he said no, it meant he'd be stuck in this room and he'd have to handle this by himself and Scott didn't think he could do that. He couldn't stand this for one more minute. 

"I am," he whispered.

The guard scowled and said something else into his earpiece. "Fine. But we're going to be watching you both extremely closely. Any funny business and we won't hesitate to shoot, got it? Get to the back of your cell." He waved his gun threateningly, and Scott scrambled away.

It didn't happen right away. More guards appeared. On the other side of the Raft, Wanda and Clint both sat up in their respective cells to watch. Scott huddled in the corner as the glass melted away. Sam appeared a moment later, dressed in the same dull grey clothing that Scott was, and was roughly pushed into the cell. The glass slid back down into place seamlessly.

"No funny business," the guard repeated, pointing a menacing finger at both of them. Scott winced, but Sam ignored them entirely.

"Scott, look at me," he said, and his voice was soft but firm. "It's okay. Ignore them. They won't hurt you. Just look at me."

Slowly, Scott obeyed. Whatever his face looked like at that second, Sam's expression softened into something that was kinder than anything Scott had seen in years. He desperately wanted to crawl closer and ask for a hug, but at the same time he couldn't bring himself to move. The front of the cell was where the scary guards were, and he didn't want to be near them.

"Can I come closer?" Sam asked, holding his hands out to show that he had nothing dangerous.

Scott nodded, sniffing.

"Okay. I'm going to sit down next to you and wrap my arm around your shoulders. If that's not okay, then you can either say something or just push me away. I won't be mad." Moving slowly, with big, over-exaggerated movements, Sam did exactly as he said he would: he sat down with his back against the wall and stiffly put his arm across Scott's shoulders, as though prepared for Scott to shove him away.

Instead, the exact opposite happened. Scott collapsed into him, bawling, and buried his face in Sam's lap. Sam's hand fell down across his back as Sam let out a soft huff of surprise, but Sam didn't push him away. Instead, he rubbed his hand up and down Scott's back and just let him cry.

"I'm s-sorry," he wailed. 

"Sorry? For what? You didn't do anything wrong."

"I'm a Little." Scott whispered the word, but Sam heard him anyway.

"A Little? You're apologizing for that? Kiddo, you're not the only Little on this team."

"I'm... I'm not?" 

Sam chuckled. "Nope, not even close. Clint and Wanda both tip the scale too. You're what, a little kid?" he asked, and Scott nodded. "Clint's even younger than you, then. He's classified as a toddler."

"I am not!" Clint yelled.

"That's not what Steve told me," Sam yelled back, and Clint subsided into a sulky silence. "Then there's Tony Stark. Did you know he's a baby?"

"Really?" Scott blinked, trying to wrap his head around that. Information coming into the prison was always limited, and he usually tried to stay away from anything that revolved around the Starks. So no, he hadn't known that. It kind of shed a new perspective on Hank's bad attitude towards Tony Stark. Scott sure as hell found the world hard to navigate with the mental headspace of a five-year-old; it was impossible to imagine doing it as a baby.

"Yep. Turns out Littles can definitely be superheroes, too," said Sam. "It doesn't change anything. I still would've punched you in the face if I had the chance the day you messed up my suit."

Scott giggled at that, though it came out all wet and gross, and rolled over so he was looking up at Sam. "My suit might get taken away," he said sadly, though he wasn't crying anymore. "Because I can't be big all the time."

"Maybe, but maybe not. Tony's not big all the time and he gets to have a suit that's just as cool as yours."

"Nuh-uh! My suit is way cooler!"

Sam smiled. "You're right. Don't know what I was thinking. I didn't get the chance to thank you for your help at the airport, either. You were pretty awesome. But you said that it might do something to you. Are you hurt anywhere?" 

"My head hurts," Scott said. "I'm tired."

"Have you been sleeping?"

"... Yes."

"I'll give you that one 'cause you're upset, but I don't appreciate being lied to." Sam was trying to sound stern, but he was still smiling, and he came across as more fond than anything. Scott tried on a smile and watched as Sam's eyes crinkled around the corners in response.

"No," he confessed. "I don't like scary dreams."

"Do you want to tell me what your dreams were about?"

Scott shook his head.

"That's fair. How about this? You close your eyes and sleep, and I'll sit here and guard your dreams. The Falcon is more than enough to take on any monsters that come around."

"Promise?" Scott said. He grabbed onto Sam's shirt. "You won't leave?"

"Avengers honor," Sam said, giving him a quick salute. "I'll be here when you wake up, sweetheart."

That was good enough for Scott. He closed his eyes and rolled in closer, so that his face was pressed to Sam's belly. He could smell sweat, and it wasn't pleasant, but at the same time it was safe. He could also hear Sam's heartbeat and feel the heat of his skin. The fabric of Sam's shirt was rough and scratchy between his fingers and against his cheek. Sam's hands were hot against his back and hair, easing him into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://tsuki-chibi.tumblr.com/).


End file.
